


The Nicest Thing

by TheLoneMeme



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blowjobs, Dumb boys are dumb, I am so sorry, M/M, Ronan Has Feelings, adam is insecure af, food is involved, lots of swearing, ronan is an asshole, ronan is insecure af too tho so its okay, they stay at the barns, this is my #shamefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneMeme/pseuds/TheLoneMeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Parrish doesn't allow himself nice things. So when he wakes at the Barns with Ronan asleep beside him, he allows himself thirty seconds to stare before he begrudgingly rolls away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a fic since I was a freshman, so please be gentle. I just hope this doesn't seem ridiculously OOC. Constructive criticism is obviously welcome. Thanks for reading!  
> (find me on tumblr @bi-babes-tho)

Adam Parrish rarely let himself enjoy nice things. He never really considered current Adam worth the effort that nice things required. Future Adam, maybe, but future Adam had already graduated from Aglionby, already graduated from whichever fucking ivy-league school he scraped his way into, and was already employed at a very nice law firm, rented an apartment somewhere nearby said firm, and owned a house somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where he stayed over the weekends. Future Adam was worth the time and effort nice things took, current Adam was worth about as much as his months rent.

                So, when current Adam woke up in the Barns next to Ronan after a long night of trying to awaken dream things, he allowed himself thirty seconds of staring at him before begrudgingly rolling over and pretending he was still asleep until Ronan woke up. He stared blankly at the wall until his eyes burned, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling a fair amount of scruff on his jaw. He closed his eyes and sighed. He would have to shave soon, possibly today, if he didn’t want to start looking more like a ghost of his father than he like a ghost of himself. He went back to staring at the ceiling, being careful that his eyes stayed on the ceiling, and not on the Greywaren asleep next to him. Making sure that he kept his mind off of the fact that Ronan mumbled in his sleep.

                Adam wasn’t frustrated. He didn’t have a right to be frustrated, especially towards Ronan. Not after Ronan had (somehow, probably illegally) brought down Adam’s rent. Not when Adam had watched him with Mathew. Not when Ronan was sleeping next to him, curled in on himself and looking vulnerable, but still poisonous, his tattoo screaming a warning even as Ronan slept. No, Adam wasn’t frustrated. But there was a distinct sinking in his chest when he looked at Ronan, a sad ache that made him look away before Ronan could catch him staring and ask him what the fuck was wrong with him. 

                After laying still and stiff on the couch Ronan had insisted he sleep on in the early morning hours, Adam got too bored to pretend to sleep for another hour or two until Ronan woke up. Dragging himself out from under the mountain of blankets he was buried under (he only remembered falling asleep with one), he made his way to the kitchen, putzing around with the dream coffee maker until he finally heard the satisfying gurgle that meant it was (hopefully) making a strong pot of coffee. Then he got started on eggs and toast. Partially because he could only find a carton of eggs and a spoiled half gallon of milk in the fridge, and partially because it was the only breakfast he knew how to make.

                He heard Ronan stir in the other room, but carried on. Ronan usually took a solid twenty minutes to fully wake up after a late night, so Adam assumed that he had time before he had to start defending his cooking abilities against the harshest Lynch brother. But Ronan, as always, was fully of surprises. Within five minutes, Ronan had joined Adam in the kitchen, sweat pants seated low on his narrow hips (un-fucking-fair), and a cup of coffee that Ronan insisted was straight black, but Adam knew was filled with enough sugar to stop a normal human heart, in his hands. Ronan was struggling to contain a smirk as he watched Adam struggle with the dream-thing stove, which was currently snapping and sparking at him in something that resembled Morse code.

                “I’d offer to help you Parrish, but it looks like you’ve got this perfectly under control.” Ronan mumbled into his coffee. Adam tried (failed) to ignore the way Ronan batted his lashes innocently at him over the rim of his glass.

                “You’re welcome to start on the toast then,” Adam said, flicking his wrist towards the other semi-evil dream-thing in the room. “it shocked me when I tried to change the setting.” He mumbled, thinking Ronan was still groggy enough to let it slip. The snigger he got in reply seemed to say otherwise. Soon enough, though, Adam heard a small _zap_ and an incredulously whisper ‘fuck’ from the other side of the kitchen.

                “I’d offer to help you Lynch, but-” Adam was cut off by a piece of bread hitting the back of his head. He carefully set down the fork he was using to poke at the stove before turning around to face Ronan. He had is back turned, back to fussing with the toaster on the counter in front of him. Adam only hesitated for a second before reaching behind him and grabbing an egg from the carton. He hesitated a second time while he considered the cost of wasting food, but remembered he and Ronan’s discovery of the magical, sleeping, egg laying hens the week before, and decided that a couple of eggs were an expense he could spare. Tapping the shell almost silently on the countertop, Adam let the egg spill onto his fingers as he took the two steps required to be in Ronan’s space, and then dumped the sludgy mess in his hand effectively down the back of Ronan’s head. Ronan seemed unfazed, opting to continue with the task in front of him, and Adam became suddenly worried. Had he crossed a line? He opened his mouth to apologize just as Ronan started laughing.

                Ronan reached his hand towards the back of his neck, grabbing the material of his muscle tank and tugging it sharply upwards, ridding himself of his top and most of the egg mess that had run down his back in one swift movement. He was shaking with laughter as he smeared the cleanest parts of his shirt over the back of his neck, cleaning up the mess Adam had left behind.

                “Fuck, Parrish,” Ronan gasped between fits of laughter. He had leaned his lower back against the counter, and Adam was so focused on not focusing on Ronan that he completely forgot about his worry. And that other humans existed on earth. He laughed along with Ronan for a second, then turned back to the stubborn stove, shocked when the flame took, and the burner crackled into functionality. He quickly transferred two eggs onto a skillet and let them sizzle over the heat, still focused on anything Not-Ronan.

                Adam heard two or three cabinets open and close, Ronan still laughing to himself. Finally, he heard the toaster pop. Ronan had appeared behind him. He blinked up at Ronan for a second over his shoulder, processing the container of powdered sugar in his hands and the wicked grin on his face just a second too late.

                Adam had just opened his mouth to still Ronan’s movement when the entire bag of sugar was dumped over his head. He registered the smell of burnt sugar from the stove at the same moment that Ronan had, because suddenly Ronan wasn’t just in front of beside him, he was around him, one hand reaching behind Adam to shut off the burner before the eggs or sugar could catch fire, the other resting on the counter behind him. Adam was frozen. He blinked blankly at Ronan’s shoulder, still shaking with muffled laughter, brain burnt right along with the sugar.

                Ronan’s shoulders stilled, and Adam just about stopped breathing as Ronan stepped back. He watched as Ronan reached a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, awkward and stiff, almost defensive as he realized just how close he had gotten to a line they had both seemed to silently swear they would ignore until it went away. Adam had given up on focusing on all things Not-Ronan, and was now seemingly transfixed on him. He couldn’t seem to break eye contact, even though Ronan seemed to be getting progressively angrier as the seconds tick by.

                “The fuck Parish?” Ronan asked, suddenly pulling his shoulders back and become _sharp, dangerous, deadly_. Adam swallowed hard and shook his head, focusing his eyes on the floor. His mind, which had felt numb a second before, was now screaming, searching for a way out of a situation he never wanted to be in to begin with. This is why he should have just pretended to be asleep. This is why he should have settled on buttered bread and water for breakfast. This is why he should have just stayed home.

                Ronan was moving again, bristling as he stormed out of the kitchen. Not a minutes later, Adam heard a door slam, and the old pipes creak. It snapped him out of his stupor some, enough for him to shake some of the sugar from his hair and start on cleaning up the mess he had made.

                Adam didn’t put much thought into his coping mechanisms, but if he had to pick one, he would say cleaning helped with his stress. He liked things neat, tidy, organized. So as he listened alternatively to his own pounding heartbeat and the sound of water in rusty pipes, he fussed about the kitchen. He started on the floor, finding a dustpan under the sink. He swept up as much of the sugar as he could manage, and took a damp rag to the rest, scrubbing until the floor was no longer sticky. Then he slopped up the egg, flushing in embarrassment and a little bit of shame as he did. He was about to clean the stove when the water shut off, and he heard Ronan tromp down the stairs.

                A still slightly damp, and very angry looking Ronan crashed deliberately into the kitchen a second later. He was fully dressed, and Adam suddenly felt almost naked, standing, still covered in sugar, in the middle of the mess he had started.

                “Go upstairs and shower, dumbass. I put clothes in the bathroom for you. You look like a cock just standing here.” Ronan said, voice dripping with a venom Adam knew was covering something else entirely. Nevertheless, Adam crept out of the kitchen and up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyooo. So, I'm thinking this fic will only be one or two more chapters, but I'm not sure yet, so I'm leaving it uncertain for now.  
> I wrote this more from Ronan's p.o.v. this time, and I have a difficult time writing him, so let me know if it's outrageously OOC.  
> Thanks for reading!

Ronan stood in front of the stove, scrubbing at the sugar burned into the stovetop. His cheeks were flushed, and he felt too warm and too cold all at once. His mind was focused on _AdamAdamAdam_ , and didn’t seem like it was going to break the loop anytime soon.

Adam, standing in front of the stove while wearing yesterday’s clothes.

Adam, fixing him breakfast and bickering with him during the early morning.

Adam, relaxed enough to fight back.

Adam covered in sugar, looking shocked and dumbfounded.

Adam, looking at Ronan like he was insane when Ronan had slipped up and allowed himself to be comfortable with Adam.

Ronan stopped cleaning (did he even know how? Fuck) and rubbed his hands over his shaven head.

He wasn’t fucking bitter. He couldn’t be bitter towards Adam. Not when he knew Adam knew about the rent, but never brought it up. Not after seeing Adam with his dad, that night everything went to shit. Not when he knew Adam was cautious before he touched anything, because he thought he would mar it somehow. Ronan wasn’t bitter towards Adam. But god, his hands had itched to rest themselves on Adam’s hips when he walked into the kitchen, pull him against his chest and rest his head on Adam’s shoulder. Fuck.

Ronan went back to cleaning. Honestly, it was the only thing he could think of that was mind-numbing enough to keep his thoughts from racing. He could hear the pipes creaking, and his own heart pounding, but not much else. He glanced at the clock. It was only seven a.m., which meant they would need to go back to sleep if they wanted to try and wake Niall Lynch’s dream things again.

Ronan glared at the stove and the toaster. His father’s dream things had always responded perfectly to Ronan. The toaster, which he used every time he was at the Barns, sat across the room, looking rather smug for a fucking chunk of dream metal. Ronan flipped it off, unsure of what else he could do. Then he glared down at the mostly-clean stove and grimaced.  
He remembered how, when he was little, anytime his brother Declan would be infatuated with a girl, the toaster would suddenly go awry, burning things and shocking people, until either Niall got around to giving it a good _whack_ or Declan got over his crush. Or how his mother couldn’t get the stove to work whenever (however rarely) she and Niall were fighting.

He then flipped off the stove, too, for good measure.

Ronan heard the water shut off upstairs. He started trying to work out an apology, how he could fix what he had said (or not said) to Adam. Why had he been so angry again? He rubbed a hand down his cheek, feeling stubble that he would soon have to trim. He hadn’t meant to be angry with Adam. He wasn’t angry with Adam at all. But fuck, Ronan _wanted_ , and Adam was at the very center of that _want_ , which made the lines feel blurry and unclear. He just prayed Adam wouldn’t ask him about it. Ronan would do a long list of things to Adam Parrish, but lying to him didn’t quite make the cut.

Adam had started his way down the stairs, footsteps soft enough that Ronan had to listen if he wanted to hear them. He appeared in the kitchen a moment later, Ronan’s clothes hanging loosely from his body. He looked skittish and self-conscious, like he was waiting for Ronan to get angry again.

“Ronan, listen.” Adam started, walking a little further into the kitchen. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else. “I’m sorry, about earlier, I just…” He waved a hand in front of himself, words missing.

“Fuck you Parrish.” Ronan spat. Why was he angry? What the fuck was he doing?

Adam blanched, the color in his cheeks from the heat of the shower disappearing. He blinked at Ronan, holding his breath.

“I…um…what?” Adam sputtered, looking completely bewildered. His eyes were wide, his hair still damp and stuck to his forehead. Ho looked both too young and too old to be a high school student.

“Don’t fucking apologize to me, you dick.” Ronan muttered, feeling suddenly very Not-Ronan, wanting _out, away, anywhere but here_. Something shifted in Adam’s face.

“You know what? Fuck you too Lynch.” Adam answered. He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t changed his posture, but something in his eyes was now as dangerous as anything Ronan had ever seen. He started making his way across the kitchen, brushing past Ronan in his attempt to get to the front door. He couldn’t leave, Ronan knew that. He had driven Adam out to the Barns, after all. But the spike of fear and uncertainty made him reach out and grab Adam by the wrist.

Adam froze, his eyes still trained straight ahead. Ronan was frozen too, feeling rather out of place in the middle of the kitchen, holding onto Adam’s (Adam had really nice skin) wrist.

“You don’t need to apologize.” Ronan gritted out through his teeth. He still felt angry. Or something. God, why wouldn’t the pain in his chest just fuck off?

“You know what Ronan?” Adam said, turning to face him. He hadn’t pulled his wrist away. “I don’t fucking care. You can get as angry as you want, and be as much of a dick as you want, and the second I apologize, you start feeling guilty and want to fix it. But you don’t always get to fix it. Why do you think it’s alright to just treat me like shit and then act like you’re my saving grace the second I go to say I’m sorry for whatever it is that set you off?”

Ronan was silent. How was he supposed to answer that question? He didn’t think ‘because you let your accent slip when you get emotional and it hurts my fucking heart’ was the answer Adam was looking for, but at the moment, it was the only one he had. He also didn’t think ‘you have a great ass’ would be an effective answer, but his brain was short circuiting, so he couldn’t quite think anything else.

Adam still hadn’t pulled his wrist away, and Ronan stared at his own hands for a second before looking up. Adam still looked angry, but he also looked a little bit sad. Ronan closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in a way that should have been painful, and slid his hand down across Adam’s palm, and intertwined their fingers. He stayed frozen for what felt like an eternity, not looking up, not opening his eyes. Adam hadn’t moved, either, which almost made things worse. Adam was going to reject him, Ronan knew that, he just wished he would stop being nice and do it already


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to a WHOLE LOTTA sad ass music while writing this. Forgive me. 
> 
> There is a lil bit of shitty Latin in this. The translations are in the end notes, but idek if they're correct. I tried. 
> 
> I am so sorry.
> 
> ALSO there are mentions of Adam's family in this chapter, it's brief and non-descriptive, but please be careful if you're really sensitive. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Adam’s brain had shut off. The only thing he could focus on was how Ronan’s hand felt in his. And how afraid and small Ronan looked. He felt his heart stutter in his chest. Felt the pulse in his wrist. Felt Ronan’s pulse pressed against his. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. He felt Ronan flinch and start to pull his hand away, and before Adam could stop himself, he had clenched his fingers tighter with Ronan’s, reached his other hand out to wrap around Ronan’s wrist. He looked up, mind and body finally catching up with each other.

“Don’t fuck with me on this Lynch.” Adam heard himself say. He felt small. Insecure. Like Ronan would suddenly start laughing, blame him of assuming too much, and retract what he seemed to be offering.

Ronan shook his head, a small laugh on his lips. He finally met Adam’s eyes. He looked wild and young and hopeless in a way that made Adam’s chest contract. It took him a moment to register what that look meant.

_Ronan Lynch wants somebody like you._

Adam blinked and looked away again, down at his and Ronan’s hands where they met. His hands look scuffed and dirty next to Ronan’s pale, freckled skin. He could practically feel the grease from the garage, knew he would never get the smell of it, of this life out of his skin. Knew that Ronan knew that too.

“I can’t, Parrish.” Ronan said, his voice somewhere between angry and reverent. “I can’t do this if you’re not…if you’re just…” Adam heard the words ‘If you’re going to get scared off’ die on Ronan’s tongue. Adam’s heart flipped, stopped, started, waited for him to start breathing again.

“Answer the question.” Adam said, feeling raw and exposed with his hands on Ronan.

“I’m not trying to save you, Parrish. I thought you knew that.” Ronan almost whispered. There was a bite to his words, one that said more about Ronan than it did about Adam, but it stung all the same.

“Oh, okay. Then what was you fixing my rent about? What was that fucking lotion about? You don’t think that I can take care of myself, Lynch, I get it. But I was fine before you showed up and I’ll be better off after you’re gone.” Adam spat, anger rising to the back of his throat. He dropped Ronan’s hand, took two steps back, pressing himself to the counter top. Ronan just nodded like he knew that that blow had been coming, like he was waiting for it. Adam knew, like he knew the engine of the Pig, like he knew the scent of Monmouth, that he was being venomous. He watched as Ronan’s shoulders went rigid. Ronan’s head snapped up, eyes suddenly burrowing into Adam’s. He pulled himself to his full height.

Adam had never once, not since he had first met Ronan, felt unsafe with him. But watching Ronan in that moment, Adam couldn’t help the calculations that went through his head. He was four feet from the nearest door. There was a coffee cup within arm’s reach, but not much else. His eyes bounced from Ronan to the door beside him. Adam wondered if he would be quick enough to dodge under Ronan’s arms and get to the BMW.

“Adam.” Ronan blurted. His eyes were wide, and his angry stance was now tainted by something that resembled regret. “I’m not trying to save you. But has it ever crossed your mind, for one second, that watching you struggle might be just plain fucking painful? Have you considered how it felt to watch you break and bleed over things I could fix by fucking taking a nap? I’m not _trying_ to save you, Adam. But has it ever crossed your mind that I might fucking want to?” Ronan looked defensive. His arms, now crossed over his chest, were tense. He kept flexing the fingers that had been intertwined with Adams.

Adam looked at his toes. Then up at Ronan.

“Why the fuck you want to do that?” Adam hadn’t meant for his voice to break. He had meant to sound angry, venomous, vile. But the second the words left his mouth, he felt fear rush into his brain, and tears sting the backs of his eyes.

Ronan looked dumbfounded. Then, he looked angry.

“Not everyone on this earth is your shit of an old man, Parrish. Some of us might actually think you’re worth something.” Ronan’s arms were still crossed, his chin still held high, but his voice was disarming. Adam felt the fight go out of his bones.

“I’m not, Ronan. Not now. Later, maybe, but not right now.” Adam said, tucking his hands under his arms, feeling small and foolish against Ronan’s attitude, under his scrutiny.

Adam waited until the silence stretched out too long to think straight, and he glanced up. Ronan was gritting his teeth, hands clenched into fists. He looked up, eyes sharp as razors when they met Adam’s. He looked down, some tensions releasing, and seemed to hesitate. He let his arms fall to his sides before running one over his short hair, and down the side of his neck. He breathed a heavy breath, and Adam waited. Without warning, Ronan had crossed the kitchen, and had his hands on Adam’s hips. His breath fanned hot and unfamiliar against Adam’s deaf ear, and Adam felt more than he heard Ronan whisper something against his skin. His lips soon pressed to Adam’s neck, gentler than Adam would have liked.

Adam reached a hand up, sliding his fingers over the velvet of Ronan’s skin. The contrasting sting of his buzzed hair left Adam’s fingers tingling. He wished Ronan had hair to pull, because, before Adam lost himself to Ronan’s touch, he needed his attention.

“Ronan.” Adam whispered. “Ronan, c’mon.”

Ronan’s lips stilled, and he slowly lifted his head until he was seeing eye-to-eye with Adam. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting.

“I can’t, Ronan. I can’t do this if you don’t…if you’re not…if I’m not… I can’t do this, if in a month, or a year, you’re going to decide that this, that I’m, not enough anymore.” Adam said. Ronan shook his head.

“Te satis est vobis impossibile creaturae.” Ronan whispered. He pressed Adam back against the counter, his hips jutting sharply into Adam’s. He pressed one hand to Adam’s jaw, holding him in place as he kissed him intently. The other was holding onto Adam’s hip, thumb tracing over the bone. Adam felt buzzed, like he had no idea what he was doing, and like Ronan might possibly be trying to kill him.

Ronan, in contrast, seemed more than content to let Adam be deliriously buzzed. He hooked one finger into he waistband of Adam’s (Ronan’s, really) sweatpants, and started dragging him unceremoniously to the living room. He pulled back just enough for Adam to breathe and blink dizzily up at him before he toppled them over onto the couch.

Suddenly Adam’s world was filled with nothing but _Ronan,_ because suddenly Adam was on top of Ronan, his hips pressed against Ronan’s, his hands gripping tightly at Ronan’s head, Ronan very carefully biting down on Adam’s lip, canting his tongue gently into Adam’s, rolling his hips up slowly until Adam wasn’t breathing so much as he was gasping.

Ronan slowed, giving Adam a moment to catch up, and Adam found himself grasping at Ronan hungrily the second he had his breath back. He bit down on Ronan’s bottom lip, running his tongue along the abused skin. Ronan gasped, brought his hands from their place on Adam’s hips up into his hair and tugged, drawing a whine from the back of Adam’s throat. Adam kissed Ronan breathless, then slid his hips against Ronan’s, pulling back to watch him tilt his head backwards and groan at the contact. Adam pressed his mouth to the column of Ronan’s throat, chucking as Ronan brought a hand up to run down his face, whining.

“Parrish.” Ronan gasped, sounding wrecked in a way that Adam found he felt smug about.

“That’s not my name, Lynch.” Adam whispered, pressing short kisses and small nips to Ronan’s through.

Ronan grunted, belligerent. Adam stilled, his lips against Ronan, unmoving.

“Adaaaam…” Ronan whined, scratching his nails across Adam’s scalp. Adam smirked and pressed his mouth to Ronan’s collar bone. He felt Ronan work his hands under his shirt, tugging until Adam rose enough for him to lift it over his head. Ronan gaped for a second before all but ripping hiw own shirt off, desperately pulling Adam against him again.

“Jesus, you’re needy.” Adam muttered against Ronan’s lips. Ronan slid blunt nails down Adam’s back in retaliation, drawing a stuttered groan past Adam’s lips.

Ronan shifted away from Adam until he had his thigh pressed against him, and Adam groaned, glaring down at Ronan. He slid his hips down against Ronan’s thigh, grinding against him until his mind went fuzzy. It took Adam a moment to register Ronan’s broken chuckle. Grinning wickedly, Adam slid a hand down Ronan’s stomach, and palmed him through the thin material of his sweatpants until Ronan was keening up against him, Adam’s name on his lips.

“Stop, stop, stop….” Ronan whispered, and Adam froze, suddenly wondering if he had done something wrong.

“I’m-” Adam started.

“If you apologize for jerking me off, Parrish, I’m leaving you.” Ronan panted, a smile on his lips.

“Then what is it?” Adam asked, feeling reassured, but no less curious.

“God, you’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you. Sadistic fucker.” Ronan had started pressing kisses down Adam’s neck and shoulders again, and he had a hand pressed against his stomach. “I’m not gonna last if you keep touching me like that.” The last bit was mumbled into Adam’s neck, but Adam heard it all the same.

Adam reached his hand back down to touch Ronan, tracing his fingers gently across his stomach at first, pinching at Ronan’s nipples and laughing when Ronan jolted and moaned beneath him. Adam allowed himself the gluttony of leaning down and trailing kisses down Ronan’s chest, pressing quick, chaste kisses to his nipples, hearing Ronan let out a breathy laugh. Then Adam moved down to the waistband of Ronan’s sweats, and Ronan seemed to realize his intent, and his laughter stopped. Ronan lifted his head, peering down at Adam before groaning and flopping onto the couch.

“Why don’t you just fucking kill me already Parrish? This is plain evil.” Ronan said, his arm thrown over his eyes in a way Adam would only describe as pouty.

“But this is so much fun.” Adam said. Ronan laughed, low and gravely. Adam hesitated for a moment, feeling suddenly awkward and unsure because _he had never done this and what if Ronan_ knew _and what if Adam was_ awful _and what if Ronan_ hated _it what if Adam wasn’t what Ronan thought he_ wanted _._

“Adam,” Ronan said, sounding reverent. “stop overthinking and just _suck me_.”

Adam laughed, resting his head against Ronan’s chest, feeling absurd. _Fucker._

He felt Ronan laugh with him. Adam started trailing his way back down Ronan’s stomach, feeling him tense as Adam again reached his waistband. He wrapped his teeth and two fingers around the front and tugged down right as Ronan lifted his hips, and Ronan made a noise that sounded like he might have vacated his body. Adam licked his lips at the sight of Ronan hard and naked in front of him, feeling skittish and achingly hard himself. Tentatively, he wrapped a hand around Ronan’s shaft, and wrapped his lips around the head. At the feeling of Ronan’s hand, gentle, on the base of his skull, Adam took more of him into his mouth.

Ronan had gone silent except for small gasps every time Adam gently ran his tongue along the underside of his cock. Adam pulled back enough to take a deep breath through his nose, and took as much of Ronan into his mouth as he could, pumping with his now spit-slick palm what he couldn’t manage. He bobbed his head, licking up Ronan’s cock every time he came up.

Ronan had taken to muttering _AdamAdamAdam_ under his breath, which Adam could only assume was the best warning Ronan could manage. Adam pulled off, licking at the head as he jerked Ronan through his orgasm, Ronan’s come easing the slide of his fingers. Ronan let out a high whine, lifting his hips off of the worm leather couch. He sagged against the couch again a moment later, gently swatting Adam’s hand away.

Adam crawled up the length of Ronan’s body, propping himself up above Ronan when he reached eye level. Ronan reached out blurrily, twisting his hand in Adam’s hair and pulling him into a kiss, moaning once from the contact before sagging back into the couch. Adam felt satisfied (smug) watching Ronan’s face as he came back to himself. Adam reached down to adjust himself in his sweats, not wanting to pressure Ronan into focusing on him. But Ronan saw the movement, and something predatory and starved flashed in his eyes. Adam all but melted under his gaze. Ronan pulled himself up, and pulled Adam underneath him. He pressed hot, open mouth kisses down Adam’s neck, biting at his shoulders. He licked Adam’s nipples, and Adam knew he would have exploited his enthused groan if there was not a more pressing matter at hand.

Ronan slid a hand into Adam’s pants, wrapping his hand around Adam’s mostly hard dick. Then he sank down to Adam’s hips, and pulled his sweats off of him with one swift movement. Adam half expected Ronan to begin expertly blowing him, but the slit second pause made him lift his head.

“Ronan,” Adam said, his voice sounding wrecked even to his own ears. He flopped his head down onto the couch, mirroring Ronan. “please.”

Ronan chuckled, and Adam nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt Ronan press a kiss to the head of his cock. He could practically feel Ronan smirking as he took Adam into his mouth. Adam’s brain just…didn’t, for a while. The only thing he could think of was Ronan, how soft and hot and _fuck_. He lifted his head to watch, marveling at the view of _Ronan_ sucking him off. Ronan looked up at him through hooded eyes and _sucked._ Adam let out a strangled cry and came, felt Ronan pull off a second before, felt Ronan biting at the skin of his inner thighs as he jerked him roughly.

Adam just sat there, feeling Not-Adam, as Ronan kissed his way back up Adam’s stomach. The second Adam could reach him without sitting up, Adam had a hold of his neck, pulling him down on top of him, pressing his tongue into Ronan’s mouth, feeling Ronan nip at the tip of it, feeling him him him and nothing else.

Ronan pulled away, nuzzled into Adam’s neck. He grabbed an old, tattered looking blanket and used it to clean them both as Adam watched, every movement screaming _tenderness_ and _devotion_. Adam shifted, dragging his sweats back up his hips, and turning to do the same to Ronan, who muttered something about why he couldn’t just be naked in his own home, which Adam pointedly ignored. Soon enough, Ronan had Adam buried under a mound of blankets again, his head tucked under Adam’s chin as he scratch nails of his scalp, small contented noises slipping past Ronan’s lips.

“Is it always like this?” Adam asked, after they had sat in dreamy silence for a while.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Ronan chuckled, biting softly at Adam’s neck.

Adam paused.

“I just thought, you seemed like you sort of knew, and I thought you and Kavinsky, maybe, or something, I don’t know…” Adam trailed off, feeling flush with embarrassment. Ronan just shrugged, lifting his head.

“We almost did, a few times. But I never wanted him like that. I couldn’t, not with him, not when we were as fucked up as he always thought we should be.” He replied casually. But there was a flash of insecurity in his eyes that twisted Adam’s stomach.

“I understand. You know Tad, right? Scrawny redheaded kid?” He felt Ronan nod, and felt a smirk on his face. “He tried. Really, he did. We were both sophomores, I think. It was a lacrosse game, under the bleachers. But I couldn’t stop worrying that we would get caught, so we didn’t. There hasn’t been anyone, other than Blue, obviously, since then.”

“Is the idea of sixteen year old Adam almost blowing Tad Carruthers supposed to make me feel better about my lack of sexual expertise?” Ronan mussed, a laugh hidden in his voice.

“I mean, I think the _almost_ part is supposed to be the comforting part. Does it make it better or worse if I mention that he approached me the other day in Calc and offered to pick up where we left off?” Adam asked, trying to twist to look down at Ronan, who smacked his chest in reply.

“Worse, Adam. Could you imagine how terrible he would be at giving head? He probably woulndt ever stop talking. He would just keep going on about his Tad-ness as he blew you.” Ronan muttered, tracing shapes into Adam’s skin.

“Jealous?” Adam teased, scratching his hand over Ronan’s scalp again. Ronan scoffed.

“No.” Sharp. Final. “Tad Carruthers sucks.”

“I think that might be exactly what he had in mind there, darlin.” Adam said, drawl heavy in his daze. Ronan laughed, propping himself up on his elbows to meet Adam’s eyes.

“Honest opinion?” Adam offered. Ronan nodded. “I’m not going to be able to jerk off again for a long ass time, because, after that, it’s going to feel like rubbing my dick with a dry towel.” Ronan grinned.

“My turn?” Ronan asked. Adam grinned at him, and nodded. Ronan pressed a kiss to his jaw, and said, “I could have gotten off just grinding against you, feeling you above me.” Another kiss. “I could have gotten off on your hands.” Another. “But then you put your mouth on me.” Another. “And it felt better than coming all over your gorgeous hands did.” He pressed one last kiss to the base of Adam’s throat and curled back into his side as if nothing had happened.

“Rooonann…” Adam whined, drawl thick, as he felt himself stiffen again in his sweats.

“Fuck you, Parrish.” Ronan mumbled. Adam felt him hard too, pressed against his side. Ronan’s hands snaked lower as he pressed kisses to his neck and chest.

Adam closed his eyes, allowing himself the heady pleasure of everything distinctly Ronan, and thought, possibly, that this could be the nicest fucking thing.

 

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Latin? 
> 
> te satis est vobis impossibile creaturae = you are enough, you impossible creature


End file.
